


i'm telling you, i'm telling you

by crooked



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crooked/pseuds/crooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Grantaire's fault that T.Swift is today's go-to for break-up songs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm telling you, i'm telling you

**Author's Note:**

> [allisonnargentt](http://allisonnargentt.tumblr.com/post/60466519821/whispers-enjolras-and-grantaire-have-a-really)'s headcanon was too amazing to resist!

"You are fucking IMPOSSIBLE!" Grantaire bellows, throwing his hands up in frustration. He's pacing in the small living room, wondering just how it is they even got to this point. It doesn't even matter anymore. Neither of them are going to back down.

Enjolras is the picture of rage, both terrifying and beautiful (it's annoying as fuck how he manages that, Grantaire thinks). "Me? _ME_?! You're the one who— UGH." Enjolras pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose as though vainly trying to ward off a headache. "You know what? I can't do this right now. I can't talk to you because you're bull-headed and unreasonable. I can't even _look_ at you right now!"

Grantaire feels stung by that, even though deep down he knows Enjolras didn't mean it the way his mutinous subconscious is trying to convince him he did. "Then maybe you should go," he retorts.

"Maybe I should!" Enjolras spits back. He grabs his keys and storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Because he has to do something in response, Grantaire marches off in the opposite direction, into his bedroom, and slams the door as well.

He plops face down on his bed, letting out a muffled growl of frustration into the blankets. Grantaire lays that way for longer than he realizes, occasionally grumbling to the mattress about how much of a complete _ass_ Enjolras is and how ridiculous he's being and he's just better off if he never comes back at all. (Which is an utter lie but the mattress has the common courtesy not to point that out to Grantaire.)

Eventually, Grantaire has to lift his head because it's getting harder to breathe. He looks around his room for some distraction since all he can think about is Enjolras and his pretty face and his pretty hair and why is he so pretty? Of course, the very first thing his eyes land on is Enjolras' red hoodie, the one he'd left behind in his haste to leave. Grantaire rolls his eyes and mumbles _goddamn it_ , resisting the urge to pick it up and put it on and see if it still smells like Enjolras.

Instead, he picks up a sketchbook that's on the floor beside the bed. Before he can even find a pencil to draw with, he sees that this particular sketchbook is the one with page after page of Enjolras sketches: his hands, the cupid's bow of his lips, his profile, full-body sketches, a faceless head with his glorious crown of hair. He angrily slams the cover shut, tossing it to the end of the bed.

"I cannot get away from you!" he says at it, as if the sketchbook is actually Enjolras. "This is it. I've had enough." His own words make him sit up a bit straighter, his eyes shifting over to the guitar propped in the corner of the room. Grantaire already hates himself for even having the thought, but nobody is around. And if he takes the time to rework the song, it might even become something passably decent.

Grantaire gets up to retrieve the guitar and sits on the edge of the bed with it, picking experimentally at the strings. If he slows the tempo down and changes up that god-awful yodeling sort of thing...

\-----

Enjolras is done.

He is so beyond done. It's not worth it. They do this all the time, it's a never-ending cycle of bickering and fighting and butting heads. And it's so often over nothing at all. He doesn't even know what to tell Courfeyrac when he asks what this latest fight is about.

"He was just being... _Grantaire_ ," Enjolras says, expecting that to explain everything. He and Courferyrac are leaning against the brick wall beside the cafe's entrance, the spot where Enjolras had found him when he came storming past, still angry from his confrontation with Grantaire. He'd very nearly passed him by, not realizing it was his friend and not just some guy taking a smoke break. "You know how he gets. And so I left. I'm not fucking doing this anymore, Courf."

Courfeyrac takes a long drag off his cigarette, his left leg bent and his foot resting against the wall. "So that's it," he says, glancing sidelong at Enjolras.

"Yes, that's it," he says, a little more hotly than he intends. "What's the point of being with someone I don't even get along with?"

"Good question," Courfeyrac says, shrugging one shoulder. "I mean, why be with a person who you never have any good times with at all? Life's too short for that shit, right?"

Enjolras frowns, turning to look at Courfeyrac. "Well. It's not like we don't have any good times together," he says. "It's not always like this. It's like this a whole fucking lot. But..." He trails off, thinking about the warm body he'd felt against his back when he woke up that very morning. About Grantaire's eyes shaded by his wild, sleep-tousled curls and the soft, lazy smile he'd flashed when Enjolras twisted in his arms to face him. And the week before, when they'd got caught in a sudden summer rain, and Grantaire grabbed Enjolras' hand and they ran until they found shelter in the tiniest alcove of a building's front door. Then, soaking wet, laughed against each other's lips as they kissed. "But sometimes it's nice. Real nice."

Courfeyrac nods, blowing out a thin curl of gray smoke between his lips. "But not nice enough to put up with it any longer," he points out. "Not worth it, you said. Yeah?"

Enjolras would've seen what he was doing sooner, if not for the residual anger still clouding his brain. He frowns at him, shoving Courfeyrac. "You dick," he says, but the malice he tries to inject into the words simply isn't there. "Well-played."

Courfeyrac laughs as he catches his balance, giving a theatrical bow. "Why, thank you. It wasn't my best work, since you caught me unprepared, but it did the trick." He leans into Enjolras, nudging him with his shoulder. "Go apologize."

"What? No, fuck that," Enjolras says, pushing off the wall. "I didn't say I was at fault. I'm not apologizing first."

Courfeyrac groans and tips his head back. "It's like talking to a marble statue sometimes, I swear to god. Go make nice with your boyfriend, E. I refuse to be a pawn in the ensuing custody battle."

Enjolras is already walking away, smiling as he flips Courfeyrac off over his shoulder. He knows he won't take offense to it and hears him laugh in response. "Love you, too!" comes his shout as Enjolras rounds the corner.

But as his feet carry him in the opposite direction of Grantaire's apartment, he starts to _think_. Maybe he was too hasty about all of it. What were they even fighting about? He knows he told himself he wasn't going to relent, but it would be ridiculous to break up over nothing. Goddamn that Courfeyrac. Before he knows it, Enjolras is heading back toward Grantaire's apartment.

Not past the Musain, though. He will not give Courfeyrac that satisfaction.

\-----

The melody is right, at last, after twenty minutes of fiddling and on-the-fly composing. Grantaire is a little ashamed that he doesn't have to look up the lyrics, but it's a catchy song and it's everywhere. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with liking what he likes. Guilty pleasures have never been something he believes in. They're just pleasures, period.

That said, he's not going to be singing this particular song for his friends any time soon. (Or any song, really, but that's neither hear nor there.) He tries not to think about the fact that this scene is frighteningly close to the opening scene in the original song's music video, except he isn't wearing pajamas with a cutesy print. Grantaire begins to strum and pick at the strings, pleased with the ballad he's made out of the song. It's not exactly getting Enjolras off his mind, but it's getting his feelings off his chest and that's close enough for now.

The song is almost unrecognizable for anyone who has never heard it on the radio. Grantaire sings in his soft, deep tone, the words slow and lilting as they roll off his tongue.

" _I remember when we broke up, the first time, saying 'this is it, I've had enough'..."_

\-----  _  
_

Grantaire's door is unlocked when Enjolras gets there, and he really doesn't think about it when he just barges in. He opens his mouth to call out to him, but Grantaire's name dies on his lips when he hears someone singing. He's heard Grantaire sing before, very softly and mostly to himself, but when Enjolras asks him to sing for him he says not yet, that he's too shy and not good enough.

But it's unmistakably him and it's coming from Grantaire's bedroom. Enjolras walks toward the closed door, pausing outside it to just listen. What song is that? It's not one he thinks he's heard before, some slow ballad, and he wonders if Grantaire wrote it himself. He doesn't miss the meaning behind the lyrics, though. It's a break-up song, he realizes, as Grantaire sings about calling it off and how they're never, ever, ever...

"Oh my god," Enjolras whispers, clamping a hand over his mouth. He is torn between laughing and... well, laughing until he cries. He silently turns the doorknob, cracking the door open and peering inside. Grantaire has his back to him, so he opens the door wider, watching him as he rocks slightly to the song he's singing. Enjolras stands there, transfixed, as Grantaire nears the end of the first chorus. There really isn't much of a choice as to what he knows has to come next.

\-----

" _Like, ever._ "

Grantaire riffs a bit before the start of the second verse. He hadn't planned on singing the entire song but, well, he actually kind of likes the way it's turning out. He takes a deep breath and launches into the next verse of lyrics. " _I'm really gonna miss you picking fights, and me, falling for it, screaming that I'm right..._ "

But his fingers come to an immediate halt on the strings, his eyes going wide as he whirls around. Because his isn't the only voice singing. Somebody had harmonized with him, beautifully even, but Grantaire knows he was alone when he began.

His eyes open even wider with shock when he sees Enjolras there, biting his lip and staring back at him with a sheepish expression. He takes a few steps into the room toward Grantaire, who still looks completely shocked and can't form a coherent sentence to save his life.

"Go on," Enjolras says, hesitantly, and he comes to sit beside Grantaire on the edge of his bed. Grantaire knows what this is. It's Enjolras' apology.

He smiles at him, finally coming back to his senses. "How the hell do _you_ know this song?" he asks.

"Says the man who did an angsty cover of it," Enjolras answers back. He leans into Grantaire, their arms pressed together, and Grantaire just grins and begins to play again. Enjolras' head drops to his shoulder and Grantaire nearly loses the chords for a moment, but then they pick up the lyrics again, the addition of Enjolras' higher octave adding a layer of richness to and completing Grantaire's lower one.

" _And you would hide away and find your peace of mind with some indie record that's much cooler than mine._ "


End file.
